Seduction
by AJ Rayne
Summary: The Princess Azula stumbles upon the broken body of a boy and starts upon the path that would lead to her exile from the Fire Nation. Follows or precedes 'Somewhere in Between'. Not Jetzula
1. Part 1

**Seduction: Part 1**

* * *

The objective part of Jet's brain was interested to note that pain could be associated with colors. Behind his closed eyelids, he saw oranges, blues, and the occasional purple, but the main palette here were shades of red.

That wasn't such a big surprise.

When he wasn't contemplating colors—which, in all honesty, only distracted his conscious mind for a very small portion of time—he was trying to go back down into the blackness where there was nothing. No memories of being crushed by merciless earth. No echoes of the sound of his own bones breaking under the impact. No recollection of that first explosion of unparalleled, inimitable pain that had him believing he was finally at his life's end.

Because, that then begged the question; _why_ wasn't he dead?

The few times Jet had managed to open his eyes and break through the heavy cloak of unconsciousness, he'd hear a voice, see a face. He hadn't been able to focus enough to understand what the voice was saying, but the tones were warm and helped him relax. Both were unfamiliar to him, but he'd begun to associate them with comfort. His aches had been soothed, his nightmares pushed aside when he heard that voice. Sometimes, he'd feel the touch of a warm, soft hand against his face, and peace settled over him, calming him so that he'd wondered if maybe he was dead and in the Spirit World.

It could have been months, days, or hours after Lake Laogai, when Jet was finally able to open his eyes and keep them open, confirming that he was not, in fact, dead. He was surprised to find himself in elegant surroundings, possibly in Ba Sing Se, if the color scheme was any indication. He was lying in a bed that was bigger than some of the rooms he'd lived in over the years. He was dressed in cream colored pajamas made of the finest silk, and for a brief moment, he thought he was dreaming, or perhaps the Dai Li had control of his mind again. Then he tried to sit up and nearly blacked out when his chest felt as if it was going to implode.

Jet fell backwards onto the pillows with a strangled gasp. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes blindly tracing the patterns of the tiles as he breathed through the pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he clutched at the sheets with white-knuckled fingers. He was so focused on hanging on to consciousness that he didn't realize someone had entered the room, until a pair of clear amber eyes invaded his view.

"Jet," the voice said, as low and as silky as the clothes he wore. "It's alright."

She put a hand on his cheek, wiped his forehead with a soft cloth, and sat down at his bedside. He stared at her face, thought it looked familiar somehow, and he realized, this was the woman who'd been taking care of him. No, not woman. Girl. She was dressed in the yellows and greens of the Earth Kingdom, but not in any particular style exclusive to Ba Sing Se. Her ebony black hair was pulled back and up in a tidy bun, though strands artfully framed a face that could have been in any classic painting. He stared at her and the clean lines of her beauty, and felt his pain ebb.

"You're finally awake," she said with a smile. "I've been so worried about you."

"Who are you?" he asked hoarsely. "Where am I?"

"You're in my home," she answered. "I'm Azula."

"Azula," he repeated. "How did you find me?"

"I saved you from the Dai Li," Azula answered. "They're my enemies, too, Jet."

"Did you get crushed by a boulder, too?"

"My situation is not quite as dramatic. You know what they say: my enemy's enemy is my friend."

"Whoever said that is a fool," Jet said, coughing.

Azula's smile widened. "Maybe, but you're alive because of it."

"Are you some crazy heiress who needs a new pet project or something?" he demanded.

She arched an eyebrow at him, her expression turning imperious.

"You're a lot smarter than you look. Here, you must be parched."

She slid a firm hand under his head and lifted his head slightly. With her other hand, she held a cup of cool water to his lips and he drank it greedily.

"Careful," she chided. "You've been seriously injured and have been asleep for the last week. I was afraid you weren't going to make it. I tried to feed you, but you were hallucinating for most of it, and were only able to take a few bites at a time. Your stomach isn't used to being full, so drink slowly, alright?"

"Yes," he said as she set him back down and he felt suddenly tired.

"Good. Now, rest. I know you're excited about being awake, but you're still weak. I've had the doctors in to see you and they say the only cure for you is rest."

"Why are you doing this?" Jet asked, even as he began to drift off.

"I already told you," she said quietly, brushing the hair from his forehead with a gentle hand, but he felt the scrape of her nails against his skin. "Rest."

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Azula sat with her legs crossed at the knee and her arms folded over her chest. She watched the boy sleep the kind of sleep reserved for the very young or the very...injured. She'd nursed him with a patience and care that would have shocked anyone in her acquaintance, but Azula knew that her hard work would pay off in the end.

It had been her good fortune to stumble across him and his cohorts trying to leave the city. It had been easy disposing of the other two, but this one she'd recognized from the intelligence files gathered by her men. He'd been the leader of the Freedom Fighters, a ragtag group of young vigilantes who had managed to rout the Fire Nation time and again. What interested her about Jet was that he wasn't afraid to sacrifice the innocent, if it meant hitting the enemy where they hurt the most. It was a surprising trait in a supposed 'freedom fighter', but one she knew would fit her needs. It also helped that he had an obsessive personality, as his dogged pursuit of her brother and uncle had shown. He was the perfect tool to keep at her disposal. She wasn't sure for what yet, but it never hurt to have a secret weapon.

Of course, her biggest challenge would be breaking him of his hatred of the Fire Nation, or at least convincing him that helping her would not be helping it. Even though he was weak and vulnerable, he'd still looked at her with such suspicion, and she knew it would be a long uphill battle. That was fine. She had time. Zuko was taking care of the daily workings of Ba Sing Se and she would let him play King, so he could get a taste of it before she took it away again.

Jet stirred, shaking her from her thoughts, but he didn't wake up. He reminded her of her brother so she knew exactly how to handle him. She just had to approach this situation the same way she had Zuko's. She would learn how to push his buttons, how to pull his levers, so that in the end, she would be in control. Compliant underlings were the key to her power. That way she could focus her energies on the larger plan, rather than on whether or not they would do as she said. She'd perfected the method with Mai and Ty Lee, but they were her childhood friends. She'd had years to influence them, and there was the added benefit of their lack of hatred for the Fire Nation.

Swallowing a yawn, Azula started to get up. It was late into the night, and she should be in her bed, getting some much needed rest, but she thought that he'd be awake by now. She'd wanted to talk to him while he was still in his most vulnerable place, but he didn't seem to want to comply with her wishes. She hoped this wasn't a portent of things to come.

She was halfway out the door when she heard his low groan. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she saw him open his eyes, and without a second thought, she stepped back into the room.

"Hi," she said softly as to not startle him.

"Hi," he said, his eyes tracking her as she walked towards the bed.

Azula made a show of checking his temperature, brushing the hair from his forehead, meeting his narrowed stare as she did it. Intelligence sparkled in his eyes, as did wariness, and again she was impressed that he was able to maintain his state of mind, despite his grievous injuries. Others would have been completely incapacitated from the pain and from the memory of the experience. She'd seen him cry out from nightmares and knew he suffered in mind as well as body. Yet, he wasn't grateful to her, nor was he giving up. He was at her mercy, but still he looked at her as if he challenged her to try something.

"You're looking better," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I don't feel better," he retorted.

"I don't suppose you would so soon after your...scuffle."

"Is that what you'd call it?"

"I just did."

He smiled hesitantly. Azula reached down and picked up the bowl of soup she'd brought for him. Before she straightened, she heated it up, so that when she held it up for him to see, it was steaming.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"You have no idea."

"I can guess. This is just some light miso soup, so I think it'll sit nicely."

Azula put the bowl down so that she could lift his head up and slide another pillow underneath. He winced at being moved, but didn't complain. He greedily drank the soup she spooned into his mouth and she had to force herself not to make a face when some of it splashed onto her hand. She forced him to eat slowly and he didn't look happy about that, but again, he didn't complain. When the bowl was empty, she put it back on the ground and met his unwavering gaze.

"Why do you hate the Fire Nation so much, Jet?"

"What's with the third-degree? Who wouldn't after all that's happened? The only people left in this world who don't hate the Fire Nation are a couple people already living inside it."

"Not all of them?"

"I find it hard to believe that all the citizens are fans of Ozai."

"_Fire Lord_ Ozai," Azula said, with a narrowing of her eyes.

Jet frowned. Azula silently cursed. She hadn't meant for that to come out, but the way he'd said her father's name with such derision had made her back go up.

"You never know who could be listening," she added lamely.

"Who are you, Azula?" he asked suddenly. "Really? With a name like that, I'm afraid you're the one who's listening."

"A name like what?"

"Fire Nation-y."

It wasn't the most eloquent description, but Azula could see his point. She rearranged the blanket covering him as he watched her, waiting for her answer, but from the growing anger on his face, she guessed that he already knew the answer.

"I am Fire Nation," she said simply.

"Get out."

"Or what? You can barely move. Face it, Jet. I'm your only chance at recovery."

"Then I would rather _die_," Jet spat, his eyes bright with rage.

"That's ridiculous," Azula said dismissively. "You haven't even given me a chance to explain myself."

"Then explain."

Azula stood and she stared down her nose at him.

"Later," she said. "I'm tired. I'll come back tomorrow."

She started to go, but then she turned to look at him over her shoulder.

"Rest, Jet," she said with more gentleness. "I know you're angry and confused, but let your body heal before you deal with other problems. Promise me that."

She didn't bother waiting for his response, but she'd seen the confusion slowly bleed into the anger on his face. A corner of her mouth curving up, Azula left him to his thoughts and was sure she would come back to something interesting the next day.

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"What's the Fire Nation to you?" Jet asked the second Azula walked through the door.

He'd slept fitfully the night before, thinking about her and her reasons for taking care of him, and things weren't adding up. She treated him with a kindness that surprised him, but she had to have a reason for that. There just had to be a reason. Since he had nothing else but his thoughts to occupy his time, he'd nearly driven himself mad considering the possibilities.

Azula slid a warm hand underneath his neck to help him drink the tea she'd brought. He tried to turn his head away, but her hand held him in place, displaying a strength he hadn't expected, so he had no choice but to drink. She didn't answer as she waited for him to finish drinking, and he wondered if she was some kind of crazy sadist who got off on having complete control over him. She didn't look like it, but he wasn't a great judge of character.

"Do you have a family, Jet?" she asked conversationally.

"I did. The Fire Nation killed them."

"I...I'm sorry," she said, her golden eyes widened with surprise, then empathy. "Unfortunately, that's a story you hear too often in this war."

"Do you have a family, Azula?"

She tilted her chin up and he saw the defiance there.

"I do, but what I wouldn't give to have them wiped out by the Fire Nation."

A muscle on Jet's cheek twitched. Azula was a puzzle to him, but he was at least sure that she was as sensitive as a rock.

"My father is a domineering tyrant who sees his children as nothing more than pawns in the greater scheme of things," Azula continued as she looked away from him, her gaze going inward. The one person that could have controlled him was my mother, but I lost her when I was young. He was obsessed with my mother, and that obsession drove her away."

"That sounds like a real bestseller," Jet remarked.

Azula's look was sharp.

"You don't believe me?" she demanded.

"I reserve the right to trust in a Fire Nation girl who hasn't given me a believable explanation for why she's helping me."

"You asked about my family and I'm telling you. I have an older brother who's a bumbling idiot, but I think that when push comes to shove, he's going to get my...inheritance."

"You're a girl. You don't have an inheritance," he snorted.

"You don't know _who_ I am," she said defensively, her pride clearly wounded at his words. "I'm not just a girl."

"Then, tell me."

She sat at his side, her hands resting on her lap, and her legs crossed at the knee. Her eyes were like molten gold as they met his frank look and he could see confidence in her that seemed out of place on a girl who looked as delicate as a flower.

No, that was wrong.

She was beautiful, but she wasn't delicate. She had to be a Firebender; he could feel the waves of heat coming off her. The greens and golds of the Earth Kingdom looked wrong on her, but she wore them with the air of someone who was forcing the style to change in order to suit her—not the other way around. He couldn't help it. She intrigued him.

"Between myself and my brother, I'm more suited to ru...to claim the inheritance that our father will leave behind," Azula said. "If we were judged on our merit rather than our gender, the world would be a different place."

"Sounds to me you've got issues that have nothing to do with me," Jet retorted, impatient with her.

"Don't you think that if smarter people were the leaders, this war would not have started?" she argued.

Jet stared up at her, saw that she truly believed what she was saying, and he was even more curious to know exactly what it was she wanted with him. What could she possibly need from him that she would take the time to care for him and to explain herself to him? He didn't like that he was at her mercy, and though she'd made no move to do him any harm, he was still expecting her to turn on him when she deemed him useless.

"Maybe, but a smarter Fire Lord doesn't necessarily mean he'll be more peaceful," Jet replied.

"A smarter Fire Lord would know that more power can be gained during peacetime, because resources wouldn't be wasted on pointless fighting and endless violence."

That was an answer he didn't expect from a Firebender, but Jet's shock was outweighed by his exhaustion. He was suddenly so tired. His eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, but he held on to consciousness because he wanted to hear what Azula had to say. He _needed _to know what she had to say.

"Azula," he said tiredly. "Who _are_ you?"

She sighed, looking as tired as he felt, but he could see the spark of determination in her eyes. She was frowning, and he noticed that the expression looked perfectly at home on her face.

"You might not know me, but I think you know my brother," she said.

She pulled out a piece of parchment from the folds of her tunic and set it on the bed.

"You're tired, Jet," she said and she pulled the blankets over his shoulders. "I'll come back later. Get some rest."

After she left, Jet picked up the folded paper and opened it to find a very familiar scarred face.

"Wanted: Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation," he read aloud. "Li..."

Li was Azula's brother. Li was really Prince Zuko, the son of Fire Lord Ozai. That meant Azula...

"She's the damned princess," Jet spat, and in an angry move that made him gasp with pain, he crumpled the wanted poster and dropped it on the floor.


	2. Part 2

**Seduction: Part 2**

* * *

Azula heard his scream long before she even saw the door to his room. It was a wild sound, one that she found hard to believe was coming from the same boy she'd spoken to the day before. It was as if he were being tortured, as if his very soul was being ripped from his body; and when he screamed again, the sound made her blood run cold. She quickened her steps, half-expecting to see him dismembered and bloodied, and wished she hadn't wasted her time caring for him when he'd end up useless anyway.

What she didn't expect was to find him safe in his bed, but thrashing about in the throes of some horrific nightmare. He screamed until he ran out of breath, then he screamed some more when he regained it. His handsome face was contorted in an expression of horror and pain that had her recoiling. As his mouth moved, she realized he wasn't just screaming—he was calling for his mother. Irritation crossed her features before she squared her shoulders and grabbed at his arms with strong hands.

"Jet," she said firmly, shaking him. "Jet, wake up. You're dreaming."

Sweat had soaked through his pajamas and the sheets were a tangle around his limbs/,/ as he fought against her and some imaginary foe. Azula gritted her teeth when one of his flailing fists nearly made contact with her face and she tightened her grip on his arms, her nails digging into his flesh.

"_JET_," she yelled loudly in his ear. "_WAKE UP_."

His body froze and his gray eyes flew open, unfocused, in shock. A startled gasp escaped his lips and he fell back onto the bed, his muscles suddenly slack. Azula nearly fell on top of him, but she let go of him before that could happen, and she caught herself on the edge of the bed. She pushed back an errant strand of hair that had fallen into her face, her eyes narrowed as she waited for the boy to get his wits back.

When his eyes didn't focus on her and his breath didn't slow, she hesitantly put a hand forward and touched his shoulder.

"Jet," she said.

Slowly, his gaze slid over to her, but she saw nothing in his eyes, not even recognition. He was awake, but he was still in the grip of his nightmare. Azula started to raise her hand to slap him and bring him back to the world of the living, but then he blinked. Even though the fear hadn't gone from his face, she saw that he was looking at her.

And the hate she saw there surprised her, even though she told herself that it shouldn't have.

"Throw me out into the street or leave me here to starve to death, I don't care," he spat at her. "I won't have anything to do with Ozai's fucking daughter."

"Are you sure about that?" she responded archly, his words bouncing off her like arrows on armor. "You can barely move, and you're about as dangerous as a baby. Ba Sing Se is crawling with Fire Nation soldiers. You'll be dead in less than five minutes."

"Better I die out there, than be kept in here like your pet."

"Don't you think I have a good reason for keeping you alive?" Azula countered, struggling to keep her tone even, while she wanted nothing more than to turn his bones into ash.

Jet's eyes were like two black holes in a face that was suddenly pale. The corded muscles of his neck stood out in sharp relief, as he pushed himself up to a seated position, so that he could thrust his face in hers.

"Get the hell away from me," he said, his spit hitting her cheek.

The sharp crack of her palm connecting with his flesh had all the power of a lightning strike. She had him on his back in the next second, her hand hot and on his neck, her nails digging into his skin. He cried out from the pain that she was sure was shooting across his chest, but she couldn't care less.

"Ungrateful peasant," she hissed. "The reason you haven't succeeded in any of your attacks against the Fire Nation is because you're stupid and impatient. I'm giving you a chance to hit back and to make it stick, but you're throwing it in my face because you're letting your heart lead where your head should."

"Why do you need me around so badly, _your Highness_?" he gasped, straining against her grip. "Is it because I won't be missed? Are you going to throw me to the front lines at your bidding, like your own personal toy soldier?"

"Yes," she said, her face inches from her. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."

Azula squeezed his neck until her nails drew blood, then she let go. With a trembling hand, he wiped at the blood, the madness not yet gone from his eyes.

"You killed my family. I saw them _burn_."

"I did no such thing," she said archly. "I had nothing to do with your family."

"Arrogant bitch."

"And?"

Blowing out an impatient breath, Azula turned her back on him.

"When you're ready to listen to what I have to say, we'll talk, but I won't waste my time on you while you're like this," she said evenly. "Ask yourself why I'm helping you Jet, and think about what you know of me. I'm not a woman who'll waste her time and risk her position just to have a...companion. We might come from different places, but our goals aren't so different. Think about what I can get you, what I have in my power. Believe it or not, your brain is probably the most powerful weapon you have."

She was sliding the door open when she heard him moving.

And if she hadn't turned, the sharpened stake he'd thrown at her would have gone through her neck.

Azula pointed two fingers at him and shot a thin line of fire at the blankets still tangled around his legs. As she walked away, she could hear him yelling curses, heard what was probably his body hitting the floor, and wondered if she would find anyone in the room the next day.

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Jet wrapped his arms tightly around himself. Every breath he took felt like a knife on his side as he leaned his head back against the wall, sweat dripping from every pore. He had tried to run, but hadn't been able to make it out of the room. He hadn't even been able to open the door because it hurt to move his arms, so all he could do was sit where he'd fallen.

The smoke from the fire Azula had started finally cleared. He didn't know what time it was, or even what day it was, but by his groggy count, he guessed that a day had passed. He kept losing consciousness, and when his eyes were open, all he could think was the pain that had frozen him in place.

He was still angry with her, and hate was a tight ball in his chest that only got tighter when he though of her and her family. Yet, her words continued to tease him, and the temptation she'd dangled in front of his face—a chance at revenge—only got more enticing with each passing second.

And that only made him hate her even more, and himself for even considering it.

But what choice did he have? He didn't want to die, that had become clear when he didn't use the stake that he'd sharpened on himself, and instead, threw it at her. Even though it meant playing nice with an enemy, he would do it to buy himself some time. Through the haze of pain and darker emotions, the more logical, saner part of Jet's mind knew that she was offering him a chance that he couldn't pass up...at least, not before he'd thought it out completely.

Why did she want to hit back at the Fire Nation anyway? She was the princess, the daughter of the Fire Lord. She could have anything she wanted. Well, almost anything...

Jet remembered their earlier conversations, when she'd confessed to wanting her inheritance, and he let out a humorless laugh that made his ribs ache. So, it came down to that. She wanted the throne and she needed him to get her there. For all her pretty words and duplicity, her motivation was as simple as it got. He didn't know what he could do though, and from what he knew of her, he wasn't so sure if she'd be a better replacement for Ozai, than her brother would be. Like Li, or rather, Zuko, Azula had lied, hiding her true intentions behind kindness. Jet wouldn't let them fool him again.

Leaning his head against the wall, he forced himself to breathe slowly when pain zigzagged across his body. He'd forgotten what it was like to be healthy and well, he didn't need a mirror to know that he looked as terrible as he felt. Sweat covered him from head to toe, and he reeked of smoke. Cursing Azula under his breath, he silently willed her to return, so that he could get a brief respite from his suffering.

The hours crawled past and his stomach clenched with hunger, but still no Azula. There were no shadows to tell him the time, but his body told him that he wasn't going to last for much longer. He seesawed between hating her and needing her, between wanting to die and wanting to live; his thoughts become scattered and pointless. His hands laid limply on either side of him, his head lolled from side to side, and every move he made hurt. He was thirsty, he was tired, he was in pain, and there seemed to be no end to the cycle. Even though he slept, he woke up feeling more tired than he had before. He talked to himself to keep his sanity, but then he would forget what he was trying to say. His thoughts became less complex until all he could think of were three words.

_Betrayal. Revenge. Azula._

Sometime during his haze, he became aware of another presence in the room. He opened his eyes to find Azula sitting on the bed across from him, her legs crossed at the knee, a serene expression on her face.

"You look like hell," she remarked.

"Please..." he said hoarsely. "Azula..."

Her eyes narrowing, Azula stood and knelt by his side. She took his chin in her hand so that she could look into his eyes.

"What do you want, Jet," she said in a low voice, her words a seductive hum that echoed in his head. "Tell me what you want."

"Help me," he whispered. "Help me."

The smile that curved her lips was terrible and beautiful. Her fingers caressed his face and gently, she helped him lean back against the wall again. Her other hand brought up a cup of tea to his lips, which he drank greedily.

"I'm glad you came around, Jet," she said softly. "I think that we'll work very well together."

"I still hate you," he said weakly, hating her, hating himself, but unable to turn away from her this last time.

"That's fine. I don't need you to love me. I just need you to keep your eye on your goal, so that we'll both get what we want at the end of this."

Azula picked up the bowl of soup she'd brought with her and lifted the spoon.

"Open up," she said. "You must be famished."

Over the bowl, Jet met her eyes, and for the first time in days, felt numb.

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Azula didn't let the fact that he refused to meet her eyes bother her, but her fingers itched to grab his head and force him to look. It was like talking to a wall sometimes, but at least he wasn't trying to kill her. If she cared more, his listlessness would have worried her, but she supposed she needed to give the boy some time to recover from betraying his very reason for being.

Or maybe she should start calling him a man.

His injuries and the choices put before him had aged Jet. His face was lined and carried a weight that wasn't there before. Azula found it an interesting outcome, but didn't think it anything to watch. She'd beaten him, she could see it in his posture, and she'd seen it before in older, stronger men. She just hoped what happened here wouldn't affect him in the outside, where she needed him to be the rebel leader and clever warrior. She'd only wanted to convince him that they could work together, and hadn't wanted it to go this far, but he'd done it to himself. All she could do was wait it out, and hoped that in the end, she wouldn't have to kill him.

He didn't look at her when she sat down at his bedside, but he took the cup of tea she held out. He was healing a lot faster now, despite his state of mind, and also because she'd stopped poisoning his tea. A corner of her mouth curved upward. It hadn't hurt to have that extra little ingredient to help strengthen her case, because since she couldn't use her bending to force him to bow to her will, she was able to use his own body against him. After all, he was a man with nothing to lose...except his life.

"You're looking a lot better," she observed. "You'll be able to go within the week, I think."

"Shocking how quickly I'm healing," he muttered.

"You're young still, even if you do run with sharp objects and play with fire."

He sipped at his tea, his expression thoughtful.

"So, when are you going to tell me what you want with me?" he asked.

"See, that's the funny part," she said, curling her hand into a fist and resting her chin on it. "I'm not really sure what I want you to do yet."

Now, _that _was enough to make his eyes swing over to her. The tea in his cup sloshed over the rim, and stained the cream colored blanket lying over his lap.

"What?" he exclaimed.

"You're my secret weapon," she whispered, smiling as if she was imparting the secrets of the universe. "One day, I'm going to need you, and when that day comes, you're going to be able to destroy that thing that you hate so much. You're going to be able to make the Fire Nation burn the same way it made your family burn. You alone will have the power to bring the Fire Lord to his knees and you'll stand over his body, your revenge finally achieved."

"How the hell am I gonna do that?" he demanded, an old spark coming into his eyes. "You're crazy."

"Am I? It's all about timing, Jet. If we moved now, when the Fire Nation is at its strongest, we will lose. We'll have wasted all this time we've spent together. So, we wait. We wait for that time, when two people can bring down a kingdom older than the seas and the earth."

He stared at her and she wondered if he was going to try to break his cup over her head. She stared back, forcing her expression to harden and her eyes to go flat. He didn't respond, simply stared.

"You'll let me go with no guarantee that I'll come to you when you call," he finally said.

"That's right," she said. "Here's where trust comes in."

"You trust me?"

"No, but I do trust your hatred for the Fire Nation."

Jet leaned back against the headboard. Azula slid closer to him until she was pressed up against his arm, her lips brushing his ear.

"The Fire Lord will be at your mercy the way you were at mine," she whispered. "Remember that when you start to think you can say no to me."

In one fluid motion, she stood. She looked down at him, even as he looked up at her.

"I'm not coming back here after today," she said. "You can walk now, so you'll find the kitchen down the hall. There's enough food there to last you the week. After that, get out of here."

"How will I get in touch with you?" he asked.

"You won't. I'll find you."

"What if you can't find me?"

Azula's laugh was sharp.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Good-bye, Jet," she said. "I'll see you again."

"Good-bye, Azula," he returned. "I'll try not to hold my breath until then."

They exchanged a look. Then, she left.

-fin-

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_Author's Note: Thanks to flyawayohglory for putting on her beta hat to help me with this one. _


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